


each coming night

by seekrest



Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [5]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (omg they were roommates), Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, Roommates, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, and there was only one bed, its just me and my whims now, kind of strangers, unrealistic apartment management
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 21,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24913933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Michelle’s gut tells her that this was either going to be the best or worst decision she’s ever made.But that’s a problem for future Michelle, rolling her eyes before extending her hand.“Welcome home, roomie.”
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: Spideychelle Week 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1796938
Comments: 175
Kudos: 313
Collections: Spideychelle Week 2020





	1. And They Were Roommates

“I only have two questions.”

He looks up at her confused - his eyebrows wrinkling as he holds the pen in his hand, blinking at her as Michelle stares.

“Are you a serial killer? And how much do you like jazz?”

Peter barks out a laugh, Michelle noticing that his whole body seems to shake when he does so - only to settle when he seems to catch on to the seriousness of her expression.

“Is that… are you really equating murder with liking jazz?”

“No,” Michelle says patiently, eyeing him up and down, “But it’ll say a lot about you.”

“Like?” Peter asks, Michelle shaking her head.

“Answer the questions first.”

She watches as he bites his lip, searching her face as if he was trying to figure out if it was some kind of trick question.

_ Good _ , she thinks,  _ he recognizes a bait for what it is _ .

“Well, I wouldn’t be a very good serial killer if I admitted it,” he finally says, “And while I appreciate jazz music as an art form, it’s not something I listen to usually.”

Michelle narrows her eyes, Peter’s own eyes widening for a moment before she smirks - nodding towards the rent agreement as she says, “Alright. You can sign now.”

Peter stares at her warily as he does, putting the pen down and asking, “Can I ask what they’re supposed to mean now or…?”

“No self-respecting murderer would ever admit their plans and since you already seem like a shitty liar, it’s an honesty test,” Michelle says plainly, Peter raising an eyebrow as she continues, “And any white boy from Queens who claims to like jazz is likely an elitist snob who thinks he’s going to introduce me to Miles Davis.”

Peter blinks then laughs, leaning back in the chair Michelle got from a flea market when he says, “Damn, you caught me. I have three albums just waiting to rock your world.”

It’s Michelle’s turn to look surprised, catching Peter’s smirk smile and flirty wink - Michelle’s gut tells her that this was either going to be the best or worst decision she’s ever made.

But that’s a problem for future Michelle, rolling her eyes before extending her hand.

“Welcome home, roomie.”

Peter takes it, shaking it once as he smiles.

“Good to be here.”

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle Jones never planned on having a roommate.

She’d worked her ass of in high school to save for college, taking on a part-time job and spending every waking moment she could studying for every quiz, exam and standardized test from hell that came her way.

Scholarships and a student loan the size of Kansas helped, but despite years of saving - it still wasn’t enough. Undergrad was even worse - working  _ three _ part-time jobs, taking a full load of classes and tutoring rich high school students on the Upper East side during the weekend. 

While half her classmates seemed like they were on a four year glorified party run, Michelle kept her nose to the ground - working harder than ever to finally make it into law school and to make something of herself.

Yet here she was, a 1L and drowning in both student loan and credit card debt - still scrambling to pay for rent and feeling as if she’d lived three dozen lifetimes when she was only twenty-two.

It was exhausting - physically and emotionally - to keep the pace that she was, but Michelle couldn’t help it. Not if she was going to make something of herself. 

The problem though of making something of yourself - something that her guidance counselor in high school and her academic advisor in college had never said - was how horrifically  _ lonely _ it was. 

It wasn’t just the combination of weird hours she kept from various jobs or the aura of stress that she seemingly emanated anytime someone came into close contact with her. Michelle just wasn’t an easy person to get along with. 

She knew that. She was arguably working on it, especially since a mean student got you into law school but a mean lawyer meant no clients.

But because of it, Michelle didn’t have close enough friends that she really wanted to room with - especially not when Betty Brant, the one friend that she had made had decided to fuck off from the city and move across the country with her boyfriend Ned.

Yet Ned - a guy she knew in passing because Betty was her closest friend and she still wasn’t sure of her middle name - had been her saving grace, passing on the name of  _ his _ best friend as a suitable roommate.

If Michelle were more of a people person, she would’ve passed - tried to go on Craiglist or ask around any of her classmates if they were willing to split the rent with her.

But that plan had more holes than swiss cheese and would take more time than Michelle was willing to hand over for something that at the end of the day, wasn’t going to matter.

She just needed someone to split the rent with. Michelle didn’t plan on staying home any more than she had to and if Betty signed off on him by proxy of her new boyfriend, then it was good enough for her.

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle wasn’t one to regret her decisions - life was too short for it and she had bigger problems to deal with than wallowing in self-pity.

But she was starting to regret moving in with Peter Parker.

For one, he was perpetually messy - a ghost in their apartment save the trail of messes that he left wherever he went.

A missing sock there, a pair of boxers here - not enough that Michelle actually tripped over anything but  _ enough _ that she noticed, more so than she ever did with Betty who was many things in this world but  _ messy _ not being one of them. 

He left his dishes in the sink, a mess of cereal boxes and leftover napkins in the kitchen - as if he’d quickly grabbed something to eat only to leave in a rush, something that Michelle would understand considering her own busy schedule except for the fact that it seemed to happen  _ every single time he ate. _

_ What could possibly be that important? _ She thought to herself, grumbling as she shoved an empty cereal box into the trash - the only time she ever cleaned up after him being when he left open food like this, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to pay for an exterminator and that Peter with his gig at the Bugle that he wouldn’t be able to either.

Michelle did her research. She knew Peter didn’t get paid shit.

Yet every single time she left a passive aggressive note for him to clean up after himself - not so subtly leaving sticky notes for him to see - Peter managed to just write a smiley face in its place. 

Michelle wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just who he was as a person but at least he paid the rent on time. 

In the grand scheme of things, Michelle thought - there were worse things to be upset about.

* * *

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Michelle says as she unlocks the door to her apartment, grumbling to herself as she slams it shut - only to pause when she sees Peter blinking at her from the couch.

He’s shirtless, sitting cross-legged with his laptop balanced on his knees - spoon inches from his mouth before he shoves cereal into his mouth. This wasn’t unusual, walking in on him in various stages of undress but every time - it was awkward, if only because Michelle was reminded once again of how positively  _ ripped _ Peter was. 

She didn’t know how or why, considering his main job seemed to be some lackey at a trashy newspaper. But Michelle was feeling a little too flustered from seeing him half-naked and from her shitty day to dwell on it anymore, wondering if he ate anything  _ other _ than cereal as she sighs.

“Hey,” she says, putting the keys down on the counter and taking off her jacket.

“Hey,” Peter says carefully, Michelle catching the way his eyes travel up and down her body before they look back to her eyes - almost intentionally so as he swallows and says, “Bad day?”

“What gave you that impression?” She snaps back sarcastically, soaked inside and out and feeling like a drowned rat as she put her wet jacket on the coat rack that Betty had insisted on getting her. 

“No reason,” Peter says, Michelle looking back to him to see his eyes almost comically locked onto hers, spoon still in hand as he asks, “Do you… wanna talk about it?”

Michelle stops, looking at him with a raised eyebrow as he grins sheepishly.

“I mean, if you want to. I don’t-- I don’t wanna--”

“No, I don’t,” she says with a sigh, saving himself from embarrassing himself further in his clearly failed attempt at trying to be a good roommate, “But thanks for asking.”

Peter looks simultaneously relieved and concerned, Michelle waving her hand before saying, “I’m gonna go shower this shitty day off.” She points towards the cereal box on the coffee table that Betty had also insisted that she needed. 

“Stop leaving that shit everywhere. If we get roaches, I’m blaming you.”

Peter looks rightfully remorseful at that, Michelle not even bothering to feel bad about it as she marches her way towards the bathroom they shared - mercifully never as messy as their kitchen was, though what that meant for Peter’s hygiene levels she didn’t want to dwell on.

As soon as she closes the door and stares into the mirror, Michelle’s eyes widen - suddenly realizing why Peter was so focused on staring into her eyes in a way that now looked comical. 

Michelle had started off the day fine - made it to her first two classes without incident, got coffee on the way to her third, but it had all gone downhill from there - getting into an argument with a classmate over torts and then having to skip lunch or she’d be late to her shift at the coffee shop she’d worked at since undergrad. 

By the time she finally made it to her fourth class of the day, Michelle was hangry and still fuming - only to find out that the class had been cancelled and Michelle - who didn’t get cell service in the subway - hadn’t been able to check it anyway because her phone died. 

And because the universe was out to get her, that’s when it decided to rain - Michelle having left her umbrella somewhere between class two and three - riding the subway then walking the rest of the way because she couldn’t afford the taxi ride to their apartment. 

It wasn’t the  _ worst  _ day Michelle had ever had but it was up there - sighing when she sees that not only was she soaked, but that her shirt was see-through - glad that she’d had on a jacket to cover her from leering looks down the street only for Peter to clearly have gotten a show.

Yet he’d seemed so focused on her eyes rather than anything else, Michelle glad that at least she could check off ‘creepy perv’ on the list of things that made Peter a terrible roommate. 

She pushed it away then, glad to rid herself of her clothes and heading towards the shower - ready to literally and figuratively wash the day away and start fresh.

Michelle  _ almost _ felt bad about using all the hot water only to remember how Peter had looked when she walked in - sweatpants and shirtless - likely indicating that he was in for the evening anyway. 

She was surprised then when she finally exited out of the bathroom to see that the couch was empty, quickly walking to her room and changing. 

When Michelle finally makes it back to the living room, it’s just as she expected - Peter gone without a trace. 

Literally, Michelle thinks - glancing around the empty living room in surprise when she sees that the cereal box is gone and the bowl that he usually would’ve left at the coffee table isn’t there or in the sink, but washed, dried and back in the cupboard.

Something warm blossoms in her chest then, a sense of gratefulness that Peter  _ did _ seem to listen to her - or at the very least was considerate enough not to actually push her buttons when she’d seen he had a terrible day.

The bar was on the ground, Michelle could recognize that. 

But it was nice all the same.

* * *

“You  _ sure _ you’re doing okay, MJ?” Betty asks through the phone, Michelle putting it on speaker as she sits it down on the coffee table.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she cooly lies, already guessing that Betty doesn’t believe her as she says, “I mean, yeah I wanted to come this weekend but I just have too much shit to do you know?” 

Betty hums noncommittally, as if she knows Michelle is lying but doesn’t want to push her on it - not over the phone and certainly not in front of Ned which Michelle is glad for only cause it worked in her favor. 

Michelle  _ was _ fine - she’d been through worse. Life was hard and weird and she could deal with not seeing the best friend she feels she’s ever made for a weekend trip that Michelle couldn’t afford a month ago and especially couldn’t afford now, not when she’d had to re-up her Metro card and had unaccounted for the expense. 

It was stupid, Michelle  _ never _ missed a deadline for anything in her life - it wasn’t in her nature. 

But that one small thing had slipped her mind completely, her first year of law school being entirely more difficult and confusing than Michelle could’ve ever guessed. 

She knew that she could’ve just took Betty up on her offer to pay for her visit - something that Michelle knows Betty would’ve done in a heartbeat if she would’ve allowed her too, especially since the job she had in California paid her more in a month than Michelle think she’s ever been paid in a year. 

But she didn’t, now refusing to mope over the phone - convincing herself that this was the better choice anyway, laptop open in front of her as she she tried to avoid the headache that was forming about the paper she hadn’t gotten the chance to start because of the Con Law exam she’d spent all weekend studying for. 

“How’s roomie life? Peter still acting weird?” She hears Betty say, glad that Peter was off doing God knows what once again as she rolls her eyes.

“He’s not acting weird he’s just--” Michelle cuts herself off, unsure of how she could phrase it in a way that Betty wouldn’t take wrong.

Cause he wasn’t - acting weird. Weird Michelle could get used to. She could deal with. She’d dealt with worse.

Peter was acting…  _ nice _ . 

It had started after that supremely shitty day, something shifting between the two of them after he’d cleaned the dishes up. 

He’d made a more concerted effort not to live like a total animal, though Michelle still saw the errant bowl or spoon in the sink leftover from the night before - convinced more than ever that Peter must not know how to cook anything since all he ever seemed to eat was cereal.

Because of it, Michelle started leaving him leftovers from the stuff she made. Always basic like mac and cheese because she wasn’t a chef and not his mother, but enough that Peter seemed wildly thankful for it - leaving her sticky notes with smiley notes of thanks all over the apartment where she could see it. 

It was… nice, to have someone to come home to - even if Peter still wasn’t home long enough to really think of him as anything more than a reliable renter. 

Yet it was a change enough that she’d mentioned it to Betty - something that she was quickly regretting as Betty says, “Acting like a good roommate?”

“Yes, Betty exactly,” she says with a smirk.

“Wish all my roommates were as friendly as Peter sounds.”

“You live with your boyfriend, B. You telling me Ned doesn’t treat you right? Give me an hour and I can find someone who can take him out.”

Betty laughs at that, Michelle thinking it’s because of her sense of humor only for her stomach to do a flip when Betty says, “So you think you and Peter are like me and Ned?”

Michelle feels warm at that, quickly shaking her head as she says, “No? No. Of course not.”

“Uh huh, sure MJ. Whatever you say,” Betty says teasingly, Michelle rolling her eyes and wishing it was a video chat for the full effect as she says, “Okay well I do gotta go. I got this paper to finish.”

“Okay,” Betty says brightly, “Tell lover boy I said hi.”

Michelle doesn’t dignify that with a response, saying her goodbyes before hanging up the phone - setting it down on the coffee table and letting out a deep exhale.

It was nice to have a nice roommate sure, but Michelle didn’t think of him like  _ that _ \- not when she had more important shit to do and a paper to finish and a world to conquer. 

But as Michelle stares at her blinking word document, her mind starts to wander - thinking of how Peter looked in the mornings when he’d stroll out of his room.

Always shirtless, more abs than Michelle thinks should be possible for someone who only seemed to sustain himself on Frosted Flakes and almond milk. 

Michelle shakes that away - physically and metaphorically - as she reaches for soundproof headphones, connecting them to her laptop and forcing herself to get back to work. 

Michelle was determined, not blind - Peter was attractive, sure and wasn’t a creep. He was nice. But she also knew better than to shit where she ate - thinking that if she let her thoughts wander too much that she should finally take up Damon from Con Law’s offer on going out - just to get that sexual frustration out of her system. 

Michelle freezes at that. She wasn’t frustrated, sexually or otherwise Peter. He was her roommate. Enough said. 

She pushes that away and forces herself to focus - flexing her fingers over her laptop and getting to work.

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle was an observant person. It worked in her favor, to be wildly observant - picking up on social cues and conversations that she would’ve otherwise missed because of how much she worked and studied.

Michelle didn’t blend into the background so much as kept her nose to the pavement - so much that people weren’t really aware of her, a hurricane of a different way than Peter was.

She came, she saw, she kicked ass and she was gone - taking notes and names like it was her job.

So it really made perfect sense in hindsight, why Michelle missed the obvious concerning Peter.

She was observant. She knew people and could read them well. But when Michelle was focused, on a deadline either real or of her own making - it was as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. 

Law school had turned every day into a deadline - really, she couldn’t be blamed for this.

Michelle was just settling down with her third cup of tea, back against the couch’s armrest - face towards the front door in a mirror of what Peter had looked like a few weeks ago when she hears it, a clattering behind her in the window that immediately sets her nerves on edge.

Their apartment was about eight floors up - not quite the top but high enough that it sucked when the elevator went out, of which it did more times than not.

It was an old habit of hers to make sure that she knew her exits - eyes widening when she sees the window start to open as she scrambles off the couch, her fight or flight response activating and switching straight to fight.

Michelle grabbed her phone, ready to run to her bedroom for the baseball hat she’d picked up specifically for this purpose when she freezes - seeing who was crawling in.

It was  _ Spider-Man _ , one of several vigilantes that Michelle had never paid any mind to except for what she needed to know for school - frantically trying to remember what the status of superheroes was legally as he nearly falls into the apartment.

Michelle’s frozen in place, thumb hovering over 911 only to think better of it - hearing Spider-Man wince and seeing a dark red stain across his midsection.

Michelle may not care about superheroes but she did know enough of this one to remember that he wasn’t a bad guy - spending his time helping out people on their walks home and stopping robberies rather than engaging (or starting) international disputes like the Avengers did.

And if he was hurt - clearly disoriented enough that he stumbled into  _ her _ apartment by accident, Michelle wasn’t going to be the narc that turned him in.

Spider-Man reaches for his mask, Michelle inhaling sharply as he does - the sound of it making his head snap towards her as he pulls it off, familiar brown eyes staring straight into hers.

“Oh hey,” Peter says, wheezing slightly before his eyes flutter - passing out on their living room floor.

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle has seen some bullshit in her life.

You don’t live your entire life in New York City without it - it was a feature, growing up in a city of millions.

Yet this, patching up her ghost of a roommate - the very same roommate who ended up being  _ fucking Spider-Man  _ \- tops the list of weirdest things Michelle has ever seen.

Peter hisses as Michelle works, instinctively reaching out a hand across her waist to stable himself only to watch him freeze.

“It’s fine,” Michelle says more casually than she feels, “I need you to be still.”

Peter shoots her a look before he grimaces, closing his eyes in obvious pain as his fingers gently press into her side.

It was ironic in a sense, how physically close they were at the moment considering that for as long as they’d lived together, neither of them had been in the same room for any extended length of time. 

It occurs to her that Peter likely came home as he did because he probably guessed she was on her trip - though the idea of Peter bleeding out on some rooftop sends a shiver down her spine.   


Michelle’s heart is beating so loud that she’s sure he can hear it - a beat later wondering if maybe he _could_ , being Spider-Man and all.

She didn’t know the extent of whatever freaky spider powers he had, only guessing that it was spider related because of the obvious emblem across the chest of his suit.

A suit that’s now half off, Michelle’s eyes drifting away from the place she’s currently applying pressure to and to Peter’s bare chest.

She’d seen the same videos everyone has about Spider-Man stopping buses and lifting trains off of people. Logically, she knew that this meant that the man under the suit had to have superhuman strength.

She knew Peter himself had the body of an underwear model, the reason why connecting in a way that made an enormous amount of sense.

Michelle would usually be a lot better about this - focusing on the task at hand rather ogling an attractive person in front of her. But her mind had already betrayed her just a few hours ago, Peter’s very real abs barely comparing to the ones in her memory as her cheeks warm. 

She sneaks a glance to him only to notice that Peter’s glancing back back at her - his own cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

“Ouch,” he says, Michelle realizing that she’s applying too much pressure to his wound.

“Sorry, sorry it’s— been awhile since I took first aid,” she says, forcibly tearing her away from his muscles and towards the smattering of cuts and bruises alongside his torso.

“Didn’t know first aid included giving a show,” he replies, Michelle feeling her mouth open before snapping it shut.

She realizes how close they are physically, the arm wrapped around her waist feeling warm as she says, “Well it’s not everyday I find out my roommate moonlights as a superhero. Forgive me if the suit is a little distracting?”

“The suit huh?” Peter says with a grin, Michelle noticing now that he’s gritting his teeth - wondering if his banter had less to do with how awkward it was and more of a distraction from the amount of pain he’s in.

“Are you sure you don’t need stitches?” She asks again, watching as some blood from the gauze she’s holding across his neck started to seep through

Peter nods, forcing a smile on his face as he says, “Yeah, I’ll be fine. I heal fast. Just—“ he winces, “just gotta stop the bleeding.”

“And the pressure like this is… fine?” Michelle says, realizing a bit too late that she sounds a lot more breathless and as a result, more seductive than she intended. 

If Peter notices he has the decency to ignore it, though Michelle wonders if he’s just distracted from the pain of whatever he’d been through tonight as he nods and says, “Yeah, it’s fine. I should— I should be good now. I’ve been through worse.”

He says the words but doesn’t make an effort to move just yet, giving Michelle’s eyes time to dance around his torso.

This time it’s less to appreciate the cut of his abs or chest but rather the cuts and scrapes all along his midsection, a particularly nasty gash along the arm still encircled around her.

“What the hell did you do?” She whispers, Peter turning his head to look at her as she relents some of the pressure. 

The gauze isn’t bleeding through anymore, Peter slowly lowering the arm around her as he winces and says, “Rhino and I had a little disagreement.”

“Who won?” She asks, half sarcastically and half genuine - making a mental note to research a little more about the super weirdos Spider-Man fought. 

Peter laughs at that, rubbing his face with his free hand - mask still in the other as he says, “Let’s say it was a draw.”

“Maybe you should find a new hobby,” Michelle says, Peter bringing his hand down and looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face.

He stares at her for a beat, eyes searching her face for something before he cracks a smile and says, “But it’s my only one.”

Michelle smirks at that, inexplicably feeling as if she’s passed some sort of test as she says, “Well at least get better at it. If you die before rent’s due, then I’ll resurrect your ass myself.”

Peter grins as he goes to stand, Michelle instinctively trying to help him up only to freeze - bringing her hands down as he looks to her. 

It’s awkward for a beat, Peter standing up straighter as he says, “Good to know what your priorities are.”

“Yeah,” Michelle shrugs, feigning indifference, “I’m used to you and Craigslist sucks so. Don’t die alright?”

Peter smiles at that though Michelle can see it doesn’t reach his eyes, wondering what the protocol is for making sure your superhero roommate is good for the night when he says, “I’ll try my best. Thanks,” he waves the hand still holding his mask, “for this. I uh, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t—“

“I won’t say anything,” Michelle’s quick to speak, Peter looking just as surprised as she feels before she amends, “I mean. Not like anyone cares anyway.”

“Ouch,” Peter says, Michelle laughing as she says, “I mean, except for me.”

“Didn’t know you did.”

Michelle stiffens, Peter realizing how rude he must sound as she says, “Well I do. For rent, of course.”

“Yeah, of course,” Peter says, his face flushing almost as red as his suit. “For rent. Obviously.”

Before Michelle has to scramble and figure out how the hell to get out of this awkward interaction, Peter’s phone rings - both of them jumping at the sound.

“I should get that,” he says, looking back to her. “Thanks again, Michelle.”

“MJ,” she replies, Peter looking mildly surprised. “My friends call me MJ.”

“MJ.” Peter says, smiling at her again before the sound of his phone brings his attention elsewhere. “Yeah uh, thanks. Goodnight.”

“Night,” she says awkwardly, Peter grabbing his phone and limping towards his bedroom. 

Michelle stands awkwardly in their living room, looking at the array of medical supplies and mess he left behind.

Let it be said that Michelle would never clean up after a man - not even a superhero.

But if her hands shook as she picked up the bloody gauze and bandaids still leftover, reeling as the realization of who her roommate actually was started to wash over and the ramifications of what all this blood would’ve meant for anyone who  _ wasn’t _ a superhero - then that was nobody’s business but her own. 


	2. And There Was Only One Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t think Peter and I are going to be very good friends, B. He’s fine as a roommate but that’s it,” she says, trying hard to convince herself that was the case. 
> 
> Betty hums as if she doesn’t agree with her, as if she can hear the lie in it. But Michelle thinks that in a sense, she isn’t lying.
> 
> The things she thought about Peter certainly weren’t friendly.

Let it be said that Michelle was used to awkwardness in her life.

Before, when she was younger - it was a byproduct of being focused on the future. Everyone around her was wrapped up in who was dating who, what they were wearing on that date and what teacher was most annoying.

Michelle was too driven, too focused, too _weird_ \- to the point where she knew enough about social interactions to understand that the ones she’d find in high school wouldn’t be the most fulfilling of her life.

It carried with her in college and now in law school - having enough social presence to understand why her comments weren’t always well received but yet not enough social acumen to actually care about the fall out.

Michelle was used to awkward, used to people being weird around her and used to unresolved tension when it came to those interacting with her.

What she wasn’t used to was Peter Parker doing the same.

* * *

“MJ, you work too much,” she heard Betty say on the other line, phone on speaker as she washed her dishes. 

Just hers - Peter made even more of a meticulous effort not to leave anything around, to the point where Michelle was beginning to wonder if he even came around the apartment at all.

It’d been a month since his secret had been outed to her, the morning afterwards being just as awkward as she expected. 

Michelle didn’t know what she was supposed to say or act, delaying a response just long enough that it apparently had told Peter all he needed to know - telling her goodbye before he left for his job at the Bugle. 

In hindsight, it made even more sense why he got hired for a photographer job when his best work was of Spider-Man. Really, Michelle should’ve picked up on this before.

But ever since that first morning, Peter hadn’t been rude but even more distant - Michelle thinking that her idea of Peter being a ghost of a roommate was almost comical for how he was now.

If Michelle was a more sensitive person, she would guess that he regrets coming home that night, regrets inadvertently telling her a secret and allowing her to patch him up. 

But she’s not - sensitive, that is. More curious in the academic sense, for why Peter wasn’t around as much as he was. 

“You just say that cause you don’t work _enough_ ,” Michelle finally replies back, turning the water off as she rinses the last dish - grabbing the dish towel to her right. 

“I mean it, MJ. You should have some fun. All work and no play makes MJ a sad girl.” 

Michelle rolls her eyes at that, leaning against the counter as she dries her dish.

“What exactly do you have in mind? Not like I have a ton of people around here anyway,” she says with a smirk, hearing Betty sigh on the other end.

“Why don’t you ask Peter to go out with you? Ned says he’s a great wingman.”

Michelle frowns at that, for the first time wondering just how much of Peter’s life Betty actually knew about it.

“Have you hung around him that much? Before you guys moved I mean?”

“No,” she hears Betty say over the line, “Peter was always really busy and kinda cancelled all the time?”

Michelle laughs at that, Betty taking that to mean something else entirely as she quickly says, “But he’s a good guy, MJ. You should know. You’ve been living with him for what, almost six months now?”

“Just about,” Michelle says, glancing out over the empty apartment. 

The fact that it had increasingly felt more empty the longer the days and weeks passed since that night wasn’t lost on Michelle, wondering to herself if maybe she should’ve done something more.

She chases that thought as quickly as it comes, straightening her shoulders and shaking that away.

She wasn’t his mother, wasn’t really even his friend - a roommate that she only knew because of the shared tangential connection that they had with person Michelle _actually_ considered a friend on the other line.

But even as she thinks that, she’s reminded of how he’d looked at her that night - his strong, warm hand wrapped around her waist as he brought her closer. It was ridiculous for _that_ to be the main takeaway from the night Peter inadvertently revealed that he was Spider-Man.

She _should_ be more focused on the legal ramifications of living with a vigilante - not quite against the law but not completely absolved of any issue, if things went down a certain way.

She _should_ be more focused of what that would mean for their rent payment if he did die - though Michelle wasn’t nearly as unfeeling as she pretended to be in caring more about a few hundred dollars versus the life of another person. 

She _should_ focus more on the task at hand - finishing the dishes and cramming hard for Con Law again. 

But what Michelle can’t help but focus on is the memory of how close Peter was - the shiver down his spine when she pressed down on his wound, knowing that it came from applying so much pressure and yet inexplicably wanting to see him shiver for different reasons.

Michelle exhales, physically shaking herself as she dries her hand and picks up the phone. 

“I don’t think Peter and I are going to be very good friends, B. He’s fine as a roommate but that’s it,” she says, trying hard to convince herself that was the case. 

Betty hums as if she doesn’t agree with her, as if she can _hear_ the lie in it. But Michelle thinks that in a sense, she isn’t lying.

The things she thought about Peter certainly weren’t friendly.

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle knew her limits. 

She knew how to have fun, wasn’t the stone cold frigid bitch that her ex boyfriend in high school had called her. Michelle knew how to have a good time and tonight, that’s exactly what she was interested in.

She didn’t _really_ have the time - she passed her Con Law exam but still had to prepare for torts. But Michelle was getting antsy, anxious in the way she always did when she went without sleeping with someone for too long - remembering belatedly the one benefit of having a steady relationship or at the very least a friends with benefits situation.

After graduation, she had neither - all her usuals having either moved out of the city for jobs or grad school or shacked up with a long term partner. 

Which is why Michelle found herself in a bar, a few blocks away from her apartment, scoping out the locals and trying to figure out who was actually worth her time. 

She didn’t _need_ someone to take home, but Michelle didn’t trust for her mind not to travel to someone else - rationalizing that it was easier to be distracted by another person rather than the one that’s been on her mind for the better part of a month.

So if Michelle found someone who met the most basic of her criteria - employed, single, attractive and ready to go - then that was no one’s business but her own. 

* * *

Michelle should’ve guessed that it wouldn’t have been that easy. 

By the time her and Dan, at least that’s what she thinks that’s what his name was, made it back to the apartment - she was ready to get this over with. Have some fun, push away the thought of Peter Parker. Get back to living her life without him occupying anymore of her headspace compared to the actual living space he did. 

Yet when they walk up the steps, Dan’s hands slowly running alongside her hip as she opens the door, Michelle realizes as soon as she opens the door that of all the times for Peter to suddenly make his reappearance - arms folded and a frown on his face when he turns to her, some guy in a maintenance get up that Michelle’s never seen.

“What the hell?” She hears Dan say behind her, Michelle walking forward as Peter turns to her and says, “Where’ve you been?”

“Out,” she says, glancing to the maintenance guy. “What’s going on?”

“Got a leak in the bedroom,” he says, pointing towards _her_ bedroom, “we’re working on it now.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Michelle says in a mild panic, turning back to Peter. “What the hell? Why didn’t you--”

“I tried calling and texting you like thirty times,” he says, Michelle digging into her clutch only to see that it had been put completely on silent. 

“Shit,” she says, going to move towards her room when the maintenance guy stops her. “Hey whoa, what’re you doing?”

“My stuff’s in there,” she says as he replies, “Not anymore isn’t. Place is trashed.”

A sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach forms, like the wind has been taken out of her as she says, “ _What?_ My laptop’s—“

“Safe,” Peter is quick to interject, unfolding his arms. “I got home before it happened and uh,” he looks to the maintenance guy, “was in your room when it happened.”

“You were in my room? Why?” Michelle asks indignantly, Peter going to answer only for someone to clear their throat.

That someone being Dan, someone Michelle had completely forgotten about from the minute she’d stepped into the apartment - looking back at him as he says, “I don’t know what’s going on but this isn’t worth it.”

He gestures towards Peter. “Whatever you had in mind for tonight, I’m not into it.”

Michelle frowns, feeling her cheeks warm as she says, “I wasn’t—“

“Your loss,” Peter interjects, Michelle whipping her head around so fast she feels like she has whiplash.

Dan just snorts, muttering something unintelligible as he leaves. Michelle looks to the door then back to Peter and the maintenance guy before focusing back on Peter.

“What was that?”

“Getting rid of him,” he says plainly, “we gotta figure this out.”

“I can handle myself,” Michelle says, Peter looking at her with a neutral expression on his face as he replies, “I know.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt this little lover’s spat, but I need to go.”

The two of them look towards the maintenance guy, an exasperated expression on his face as he says, “Pipe burst all along the ninth floor. Yours ain’t the only apartment I gotta check out.”

Michelle holds her tongue as the maintenance guy makes his way out of the apartment, Peter shooting her a look she can’t decipher as he walks him out.

She looks to the couch and sees it then - her laptop and an assortment of papers all haphazardly thrown across it. As if Peter had done exactly what he’d said, flinging them onto the couch at the last minute.

Michelle takes a few steps, gingerly picking up her laptop and is pleasantly surprised to find that it’s okay - sighing in relief even if the idea that her whole room is flooded sends a wave of anxiety down her spine.

She couldn’t afford any of this - literally or figuratively - already trying to calculate what could be lost and how in the world she was going to replace it when the door closes, turning her head to see Peter staring at her.

Let it be said that Michelle was used to awkwardness.

But the moment Peter closed the door to the apartment that they’d shared for months, was one of the most painfully awkward moments of her life.

  
  


* * *

Michelle sighed, hands leaning against the counter of their shared bathroom.

Of course it would be her luck that _her_ bedroom was the one ruined by a pipe burst, even if there was some morbid solace in the idea that their apartment wasn’t the only one with this issue. 

Because of it, the landlord had already fielded enough complaints that this was all covered by insurance - renter and otherwise, since the pipe was negligence on the building’s end. A clean up crew had already gone through, as much as they could anyway - the water damage being something they couldn’t very well fix in a day. 

Michelle knew that there was gonna be some legal bullshit to figure out - she wasn’t going into debt to be a lawyer just to let some landlord try and screw her over.

But there’s nothing she can do about it now, frustrated in more ways than one as she leans off the sink counter and takes stock of herself.

The shower had helped, washing off her makeup and sobering her up all at once. She wraps her hair up in a bun, completing her nightly cleansing routine for her face before brushing her teeth - resigned to the fact that this was some kind of sign from the universe.

All she had wanted was one night, a night to forget about law school and her superhero roommate that had been ignoring her. Yet now here she was, alone in her apartment once again - said roommate likely long gone into the night to do superhero things.

Michelle inwardly winces, chastising herself for being so petty. Peter was ignoring her sure but he was clearly doing something _good_ out there in the world, more tangible than Michelle currently feels in the slog of being a 1L. 

She can’t blame him for avoiding her for the better half of a month when she hadn’t responded well to his alternate identity being revealed and it’s not as if she had made any effort to the contrary either.

Michelle shoves that away for now, putting on an old T-shirt and shorts as she opens the bathroom door - only to pause when she sees who’s still in the living room.

“Hey,” Peter says, still in his sweatpants. “I uh, I’m sorry about your room.”

“It’s not _your_ fault,” Michelle says, before eying him carefully. “Unless…”

Peter perks up at that, raising an eyebrow as Michelle says, “I mean, I don’t know how your powers work. Can you control water?”

Peter looks dumbfounded for a second before his face breaks out into a laugh, his whole body shaking with the force of it.

The sight and sound is enough that it makes Michelle smirk, only to actually laugh when Peter rubs his eyes - crying from laughing so hard.

“I don’t—“ he laughs again, “I don’t control _water_. Spiders are hydrophobic.” 

“Not all spiders,” Michelle says with a grin, “Pretty sure there’s a species out there that lives underwater.”

Peter grins right back. “I’d think I knew a little more about spiders than you do.”

Michelle shrugs, feeling as if the air between them has changed more in the past five seconds than it has in the past five weeks as she says, “Just saying. Maybe there’s some things you don’t know.”

“Oh absolutely,” Peter says, “there’s a ton of things I don’t know.”

They hold each other’s gaze for a moment, just long enough for Michelle to recognize there’s an undercurrent of… something in the way he’s speaking.

But before Michelle gets the chance to redirect, Peter beats her to it, shaking his head as he says, “Anyway, spiders are kind of my thing. Now at least.”

He rubs the back of his neck before saying, “I used to be terrified of them.”

“Really?” Michelle says, taking a step forward - her curiosity propelling her to say, “So is that what happened? A spider?”

Peter brings his hand down, studying her for a beat before saying, “Yeah. We uh, we never talked about that huh?”

“No,” Michelle says, a little too quickly. “I mean, I get it. You don’t have to explain—“

“I’m sorry, I’m just not used to—“

“It’s fine. I know you’re busy, it’s—“

“I didn’t know how to—“

They both stop at the same time, staring at each other before laughing again - Michelle being glad that they could both at least see the humor in how awkward they were both being.

“You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s none of my business and if I’d been at Betty’s, like I planned—“ Michelle begins, only for Peter to take another step forward.

“No, it’s— it’s not that I _didn’t_ want to tell you.”

It’s Michelle’s turn to raise an eyebrow, Peter having the decency to blush as he admits, “Ok yeah I wasn’t gonna tell you. But only cause it’s a lot.”

“You don’t have to explain—“

“But I do,” Peter says a bit more fervently. “I want to, at least.”

Michelle stares at him, Peter wringing his hands before extending them out to _her_ couch - something that would make her laugh if not for how nervous he looks.

“Do you—“

“Yeah,” Michelle says, the frustration from earlier pushed away in favor for her raging curiosity.

“I do.”

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle - who grew up in New York, more ambition in her pinky toe than some people have in a lifetime - was so used to hearing crazy stories.

Peter Parker’s life was easily in the top ten, top five even.

Super strength. Super _senses_ \- the reason why he was in her room in the first place more understandable now that he explained his sense of ‘danger’.

Yet for as fascinating and incredible as Peter’s life was - before and after the spider that apparently changed his life - Peter seemed just as interested in hers, asking more questions than Michelle thinks she’s ever heard from him. 

It was easy, talking to Peter about her life and her goals - a part of Michelle knowing the bar was on the ground when it came to men and their attentiveness yet being appreciative of Peter’s all the same.

It was enough that by the time it was almost two in the morning, Michelle could barely stifle a yawn - the realization that her bed was ruined came crashing down her about the same time it did for Peter.

“Sorry, I know you’ve had a long night. You can sleep in my room, if you want.”

Michelle shakes her head. “It’s fine, I can take the couch.”

Peter frowns, looking a bit more insistent as he says, “No, I can take the couch. I’m a spider remember, I can sleep anywhere.”

Michelle smiles at that, too tired to argue but putting forth an effort all the same as she says, “Seriously, Peter. It’s fine.”

“I’ll just sleep on the floor then,” Peter says, folding his arms together. “Then neither of us get the one bed left in this apartment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Michelle says, only for Peter to shrug.

“Stubborn too. Your choice, MJ.”

Michelle looks at him up and down before she relents, the words out of her mouth before she can stop them as she says, “Fine. I’ll take the bed but you don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

Peter just stares at her, Michelle pressing forward. “I mean. It’s _your_ bed. I’d feel bad if you were out here on this piece of shit couch all night.”

“I’ve slept through worse,” Peter says, only for Michelle to shake her head and say, “You literally just told me that you fell thirty feet today and almost cracked your skull open.”

Peter winces, Michelle narrowing her eyes as she says, “We’re adults. Just… I’ll stay on my side and you’ll stay on yours.”

The idiocy of her words are so apparent to her that it’s almost embarrassing, especially when her mind brings up the very real memory of what Peter’s half-naked body looked like comes flooding back to the forefront.

But before she can chicken out or take it back, Peter surprises her once again, rushing forward and saying, “Yeah. Okay, that’s— sure. We can uh, we can do that.”

She locks eyes with him for a beat, long enough to see something _else_ flash in them - something that Michelle reasons can’t possibly be true, attributing it to exhaustion. 

“Okay,” she says instead, “then let’s go.”

* * *

Michelle wasn't one to regret her decisions. She was a planner, thoughtful and decisive all at the same time. It helped her - in her career, in her academics - singularly focused on her goals and whatever she needed to get done.

But Michelle was beginning to wonder what the hell she was thinking when she suggested this, curled up in Peter’s bed and suddenly feeling wide awake as she stared at the opposite wall.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears, so loudly that she couldn’t hear anything else - a tense silence in the room at the recognition that Peter wasn’t asleep either.

He was shirtless, Michelle getting an eyeful of his broad chest and his arms before he slipped into bed - only to quickly say goodnight before turning in opposite directions.

It felt so childish, so painfully _high school -_ though the chances of high school Michelle ever finding herself in this situation would’ve been slim to none.

Michelle swallows, forcing herself to try and calm down when Peter lets out a soft laugh, whispering, “I can hear your heartbeat.”

“You can _what_?” Michelle says, turning around to face him and instantly regretting it - Peter lifting himself up on the bed, flat on his stomach as he smiled back at her.

“You okay?” He asks with a smirk, the sight of it doing traitorous things to her heart rhythm since it was paired with his arms not so subtly flexing in front of her.

“Fine. Are _you_ okay?” She counters, propped her head up with her arm, noticing how his eyes shift down to her T-shirt.

“Why do you ask?” Peter counters, eyes slowly shifting back to Michelle’s as she says, “Cause you’re awake too.”

“Yeah,” he says with a huff, “can’t sleep.”

“Why not?” Michelle whispers, her voice low as Peter’s eyes bore into hers - catching again how his attention shifts from her eyes to her lips and back again.

“Kinda hard to focus,” Peter replies, Michelle’s heart still beating a mile a minute as her insides warm - his voice just as low as he leans forward and whispers, “Your heartbeat is too loud.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Michelle says with a smirk, leaning forward, “Stop listening.”

“Can’t,” Peter whispers, his face so unbearably close to hers now, close enough that Michelle’s losing all sense of reason.

“Can’t? Or won’t?” Michelle whispers back, eyes half-lidded as she leans in to the point where their noses are touching.

Peter doesn’t even try to reply, moving forward so fast that if Michelle wasn’t expecting it - they would’ve knocked heads, his lips crashing down into hers as Michelle immediately leans into it. 

His hands are desperate, roaming all over her as Michelle immediately brings him closer, her own hands slowly mapping out his arms and his chest as Peter groans.

It’s a kiss unlike Michelle has ever experienced, a kiss that makes her wonder why the hell she hadn’t been kissing Peter before - tongues and teeth and lips all crashing together as he moves to hover over her.

“Is this— is this okay?” Peter asks with a huff, Michelle’s hips moving out of their own volition as she grinds upward, enough for Peter to groan again.

“Yeah,” Michelle mutters, kissing him fiercely as she wraps an arm around his torso.

“I don’t— I mean your date—“

“Wasn’t a date,” Michelle says, Peter leaning back as she says, “Just… just some fun.”

“Sorry for ruining your fun,” Peter says with a huff, looking as if he isn’t sorry at all as Michelle pulls him in closer again, moaning as Peter’s own hips drag against hers.

“I’m having fun now,” she finally says, breathless as Peter laughs into her mouth, Michelle wrapping a leg around his waist.

“Come on Spider-Man,” Michelle whispers, Peter groaning as her hand travels down his bare chest. “Think you can help me out?”

Peter responds by bucking his hips, the feel of him so deliriously good that it occurs to her a beat later that they still have their clothes on - Michelle immediately working for fix that situation as she reaches for his sweatpants.

“Should we— should we talk—“

“Do you want to have sex?” She asks point blank, Peter leaning up and looking at her in mild surprise before saying, “Yeah.”

“So do I. What else is there to talk about?” Michelle says, emboldened by the look in his eyes as she plunges her hand beyond his sweatpants - watching as Peter closes his eyes and moans softly as she pumps her hand up and down.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he whispers, Michelle steadily moving her hand as she leans forward and says, “now you’re getting it.”

Peter laughs, kissing her soundly and pressing down - Michelle releasing her grip on him as he says, “Good argument. You’re gonna make a great lawyer.”

Michelle laughs, only for his lips to capture hers again - huffing as he leans back. “Yeah, I know.”

Before she can say anything else, Peter shifts - so fast that Michelle forgets that he’s a superhero, entirely more focused on the way his hands and his mouth begins to travel downwards.

Let it be said that Michelle knew this probably wasn’t her smartest idea or her most rational, recognizing that this would make for a hell of a conversation in the morning - not least of which didn’t solve the problem of their apartment, the water damage or anything else. 

But if her mind starts to wander as Peter puts his mouth to work, her whole being ascended to a whole new level of bliss later as he snaps his hips against hers, panting her name until she’s pushed over the edge a second time - then that was nobody’s business but her own. 


	3. Friends with Benefits

Let it be said that Michelle was a rational person. Logical and capable of planning for the long term.

Yet waking curled up in Peter’s arms the next morning, feeling more intimate in that moment then she did when he was inside her clicked something in her brain - a plan that at the time felt completely within reason.

She takes a moment to think over her plan as her eyes flit over Peter’s features, one arm slung over her and his mouth slightly open. 

It was cute - though the term didn’t seem descriptive enough compared to the things he did with that same mouth a few hours before. She could hear soft snores coming from him, letting her eyes drift over the way his hair curled at the edges - a memory of when her fingers ran through them and held them tightly as he panted into her mouth, hoisting her up and hitting places that made her blackout for a second for how good it felt. 

Later Michelle would think that she was using anything but her brain to come up with her plan but in the moment, it sounded right. Logical. A good argument, as Peter himself had said. 

Michelle’s heart still felt like it was beating thunderously in her ears but this time Peter didn’t stare - feeling her heart rhythm slow down as the plan became fully formed.

* * *

“You’re _what_?” Betty exclaims, Michelle grimacing as she moves to take the phone off speaker. 

Peter wasn’t home but he would be any minute, Michelle not wanting to take the chance that he’ll walk in and hear Betty say something that she would rather him not.

It occurs to her just as she puts the phone to her ear that if he could hear her heartbeat, he could probably hear a phone call - speaker or not - making a mental note to ask him about his powers.

“You were just saying that Peter is a good guy and that I should hang around him more,” Michelle says plainly, hearing Betty scoff on the other line.

“Yeah, but that’s not— I mean you guys are friends now.”

“Yep,” Michelle nods, pacing their living room.

“And you slept together.”

“Yes,” Michelle says, fitting her phone in the crook of her neck and shoulder as she goes to fold a blanket as Betty continues, “and you’re going to keep sleeping together.”

“Yeah.”

“But you’re still gonna be friends.”

Michelle laughs. “Yes B, that is how having a friend with benefits works. Didn’t you and Leo from your poli sci class—“

“Yes, yeah, I remember,” Betty says dismissively, making Michelle wonder if Ned was in ear shot, “but I didn’t _live_ with Leo. Don’t you think that’ll make things more complicated?”

“No. I think it’ll make things easier,” Michelle responds, putting the blanket up on the couch. 

It made sense - considering the state of their lives and how quickly they were able to overcome the awkwardness of the prior month in a few short hours.

Michelle was stressed - exhausted and too tired to focus on anything but school. Betty was right - all work and no play wasn’t good for her but as last night’s events proved, the chances of her finding a successful random hookup were slim when she had another person living with her who held weirder hours than she did.

Peter himself was a _superhero_ \- something Michelle could only reason from the lack of people that came to visit that his love life was just as non-existent as hers.

Michelle didn’t know if it was because she hadn’t had sex in months or because Peter looked like _that_ but whatever the case, it was the best sex she’s had in recent memory - the image of Peter collapsing on top of her, her name on his lips as his hips jerked causing her to believe that it was good for him too. 

Her mind had fully formed the argument by the time Peter woke up, though he took way less convincing than Michelle had anticipated.

Neither of them clearly had the time for a relationship but considering their proximity and the reality of them having to share a bed for the foreseeable future - it just made sense. 

They were friends now, not just roommates. And while her bedroom was being fixed, they’d share Peter’s bed - literally and figuratively. A mutually beneficial relationship that Peter seemed fine with and proved it, going down on her again and causing Michelle to wonder why the hell she hadn’t thought of this before as his mouth and hands worked her over, so blissed out that she didn’t even feel coherent when he kissed her and said he was going to get breakfast. 

The memory of that warmed her insides, only to hear the window open - Peter slipping into their living room and smiling when he sees her.

“Hey.”

“B, I gotta go. I’ll call you later,” she says, ending the call before Betty can argue.

Peter smiles again, waving the bag of food in his hand. “I got the goods.”

“Thanks,” Michelle says, walking up to him with another idea in mind - the memory of what he looked like between her legs propelling her forward. “Can it be heated up?”

Peter looks at her, eyebrow raising as he says, “Yeah?”

“Good,” Michelle says, hands immediately on his suit as she says, “how do you get this off?”

Peter immediately drops the food on the floor, almost comically fast as he slaps his hand across his chest - the spider suit falling down to his ankles as Michelle smirks.

“Someone’s eager,” she whispers, Peter grinning before bringing her into a kiss - more filthy than it had any right to be before ten am before saying, “Just following the plan.”

Michelle breaks out of the kiss, Peter looking confused for a second before she smirks and says, “That isn’t the plan for right now.”

He frowns, looking so adorably confused that for a moment that Michelle wants to just keep kissing him - like she’s in high school and making out is the most exciting thing in the world. 

She sticks to her guns and is rewarded for it when Peter’s eyes widen as she sinks down to her knees.

“You don’t have to— oh _fuck.”_

Let it be said that Michelle liked to take charge - liked plans and schedules and being the one who was in control of situations. 

So if she relished the way Peter crumbled as her mouth worked, one hand aiding her efforts and another gripping his thigh as she brought him to a climax in their living room - her knees shaking from the effort when he was finally spent, immediately bringing her up into a hug before kissing her fiercely, then that was nobody’s business but her own. 

* * *

When the landlord told her that her bedroom wouldn’t be fixed for another month, Michelle wasn’t sure how she felt. 

The possibility of water damage was enough to get the ball rolling fairly quickly when it came to uprooting the carpet and fixing the ceiling, workers coming in and out and making a mess of the apartment to the point where Michelle missed when it was Peter’s messes that she was surrounded by.

The cost of things were covered by insurance mostly, though arguing with her own rental insurance company and the apartment management team of how they were going to pay things out was a headache all on its own.

But as the workers slowly finished cleaning up the mess, that didn’t resolve the reality of Michelle having to rebuy furniture.

Of course this would happen along the same time as Michelle’s final exams - cramming in as much information as possible, spending hours in the library with a study group and then hours more in the apartment, freezing from the cold weather outside and coming home to an apartment in various stages of disarray.

When her room was finally fixed, Michelle should’ve made more of an effort to move back in. Should’ve been more proactive about figuring out her furniture and browsing for what she needed to buy and when. 

But she didn’t, not immediately - though Michelle would never admit to herself why. 

The friends with benefits things worked for them - in more ways than one. Getting off from a stressful day at her crappy barista job only to get off with Peter an hour later made the days go by faster, knowing that as soon as the two of them got home she could climb on top of Peter and ride him until she forgot her name, much less the stupid people she dealt. 

Lest Michelle started to feel like she was using Peter, he seemed to feel the same too, coming home from whatever he had dealt with as Spider-Man or at the Bugle and slamming the door so hard to she almost thought he broke it. She’d go to ask him how they were going to pay for it only to be distracted in an entirely different way, never even making it to the bedroom as she wrapped her legs around his torso - Peter pounding into her as the pictures on their wall began to shake.

It was primal, logical - an easy way to chase release with someone she knew, learning more of what made him tick just as Peter did for her, making each time better than the last. 

But as more time went on, Michelle began to appreciate another aspect of their arrangement - not just the benefits, but the _friends_.

Peter was funny, in that corny way that Michelle hadn’t realized she appreciated. Sarcastic enough to give her a run for his money and good natured enough that when she teased him for being a shitty cook, he took it in stride.

He was a good listener, enough that Michelle felt as if she was actually being heard in a way she hadn’t before - Peter listening with rapt attention as she ranted about economic inequality and offering his own thoughts when she asked.

A part of her wondered if this was just fooled into thinking they got along considering they were having sex - _good_ sex at that. But if anything, resolving the sexual tension between the two of them made actually talking to each other that much easier. As if the physical closeness made room for something a bit more intimate. 

Let it be said that Michelle was a rational person, planner and more organized than any person had any right to be.

But if she continued to push away finding herself some new furniture, reasoning that she could do it after she was finally finished from classes as her and Peter tumbled together in his sheets - then that was a problem that she knew could be solved another time. 

* * *

“I’m done. That’s it. It’s over,” Michelle says, closing the door behind her. Peter looks up at her in amusement, looking a little worse for wear as he leans against their countertop. 

It’s 4pm and yet Peter has a cup of coffee in his hand, shirtless and in the same ratty sweatpants that now - from actively sleeping with him - makes Michelle convinced he doesn’t own anything else as he grins, bringing the coffee up to his lips before saying, “With life or finals?”

“Both,” Michelle says with a smirk, rolling her eyes as she peels her coat off. “But mostly exams. They’re all after Thanksgiving and I’m giving myself _two_ days not to think about them. If I have to look at another flash card, I’m gonna claw my eyes out.”

Peter laughs into his coffee before taking a sip, Michelle watching his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows and says, “That’d be a shame. I like your eyes.”

Michelle’s cheeks feel warm at that, ridding herself of her snow boots as she says, “You don’t have to flatter me, Parker. I’m having sex with you tonight either way.”

Peter’s eyes widen a little, eyebrow raising as he says, “You are?”  
  
Michelle pauses. “I mean, unless this isn’t working for you anymore then--”

“No, no it’s working,” he says quickly bringing his coffee down, “I just-- I didn’t know if you wanted to have some like, alone time or whatever. I know you don’t like having people around.”

Michelle stares at him for a beat, a flash of something running in her chest at the idea that Peter understood how much she valued her alone time considering she’d never verbalized it - only to shove that away in favor of saying, “Yeah well, you’re not as annoying as everyone else.”

Peter smiles at that, walking forward until his hands settle on her waist - Michelle sighing as he brushes a kiss against her lips, her cheek and then her neck - whispering into her ear, “Damn MJ, you know how to make a guy feel special.”

Michelle laughs at that only to gasp as his hands start to roam over her, wondering how the hell it was possible to feel this turned on and be fully dressed. It was ridiculous really, how easily Peter was able to push her buttons so to speak - lifting her up as her legs wrap around his torso.

It was easy how quickly they fell into this, in tune with the other and what was okay - remembering the last time she had a friend with benefits and how much a disaster that had been. 

The sex had been fine but it was almost clinical - planned and orchestrated and a dance between the two of them, tit for tat in making sure the other was mutually satisfied.

With Peter it was different, something that felt less of a sprint but a marathon - less as if they were using the other but instead chasing release together. 

There’s less kissing than panting into each other’s mouths, a familiar rhythm now as Michelle’s hips ground against his for friction - Peter effortlessly carrying her to his bedroom. 

It wasn’t the first time that Michelle was amazed by his spider powers or that she was more thankful for them, a part of her always wanting to ask if his senses worked since he seemed to be attuned with every touch, every inhale, every shiver - making each time they had sex better than before. 

A voice whispers in the back of her mind that it was just familiarity, the comfort that came with being someone consistently. But as Peter worked to get rid of her clothes, kissing every inch of her as he did, Michelle couldn’t really bring herself to care. 

“I wasn’t flattering you by the way,” Peter huffs, sweatpants gone and Michelle panting from where Peter’s hands had just been, opening her eyes to see him brace himself over her. 

“What?” She asks, Peter looking serious as he says, “Your eyes. I wasn’t flattering you.”

Michelle brings a hand up to cradle his cheek, feeling him nudge against her as he whispers, “I love your eyes.”

She doesn’t get the chance to answer, Peter pressing himself inside her - sighing in relief as she closes her eyes again, the first stretch of him always being the best.

He slowly moves his hips, allowing her the chance to adjust before Michelle rocks with him - one hand wrapped around his neck and the other braced under his arm, hoisting herself up to help him reach that perfect angle. 

Peter responds in kind, his perfect abs and that perfect agility working together as he lifts one of her legs, the two of them moving in tandem.

“Your eyes, uh-- your eyes aren’t so bad either,” Michelle finally pants, Peter laughing slightly before it turns into a moan, Michelle smirking as she intentionally clenches around him.

“That’s not fair,” he says, voice low and eyes dark as he retaliates in kind - pumping a little faster as Michelle cries out.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Michelle grips his neck tighter, Peter taking that as a sign to repeat his movements - faster and faster as he pants into her neck. 

It was unreal, _he_ was unreal - wondering why the hell she’d wasted a month of knowing that he was a superhero without putting it to good use. 

Let it be said that Michelle understood that what Peter did as Spider-Man was important, that it was meaningful _beyond_ what it meant for her in the bedroom.

But if she relished the chance to run her fingers up and down his chiseled back, grateful for his strength and precision, wrapping legs around his waist as Peter dove into her even harder - then that was nobody’s business but her own. 

* * *

Michelle’s still out of breath, staring up at the ceiling when Peter kisses her neck - roaming a hand around her waist as he said, “Can I ask you something?”  
  


Michelle turns her head to face him - his hair a mess and his cheeks flushed, looking just as spent and as satisfied as she felt in the moment.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Peter looks a bit conflicted, pressing his lips together before saying, “Do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?”

Of all the things Michelle could’ve guessed that he would ask her, that hadn’t been it - her mind working in slow motion as he presses forward, “I mean, if you do that’s fine. I just-- I know Betty and Ned are having their own thing and you never really mention your family. Which is fine, it’s not my business. I was just--”

“What’s up?” Michelle interjects, cutting him off since she knows Peter well enough by now that if she didn’t, that he’d continue rambling.

Peter seems to appreciate the save, smiling before saying, “If you’re free or want to, my aunt and I have this whole thing for Thanksgiving. It’s… it’s not just us, we have a really weird, big family now.” Peter laughs as if this was some kind of inside joke, Michelle realizing that for as physically intimate as they’d been and as closer that they’ve gotten, she still doesn’t really know all that much about him.

He shakes his head before saying, “Anyway, um if you want to come. You can, you know. I-- just in case.”

Michelle’s not sure if it’s the after effects of the orgasm she’s just had or the reality of not wanting to spend another Thanksgiving having turkey sandwiches in front of her television but she surprises herself when she answers, “Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes, yeah. I’d-- yeah, that’d be fun.” Michelle inwardly grimaces but Peter doesn’t even seem to notice, too surprised and pleased that she’d said yes as he smiles again.

“Okay, cool. Awesome.”

“Awesome,” Michelle parrots, Peter laughing before the hand on her waist starts to roam with more purpose as he says, “Cool. Okay yeah, good. It’ll be nice you know. Congrats, by the way. On almost being done with your first semester.”

“Thanks,” she says, “congrats on not dying today.”

Peter quirks an eyebrow before laughing, the bed shaking in a different way as he does. Michelle grins, Peter rolling his eyes as he props himself up by his elbow - his free hand still gently grazing her stomach as he says, “All about the rent huh?”

“And the sex. Don’t forget about that,” Michelle says with a smirk, Peter grinning even more as his hands drift down even more.

Michelle’s still feeling a little sensitive but she doesn’t move away from it, forcing herself to keep her eyes on him as his hands continue to drift downwards.

“How could I forget that?” Peter says, Michelle swallowing as his fingers find their destination - closing her eyes as they start to work.

“You’re,” she pants, “you’re too good at that. It’s not fair.” Michelle hears him chuckle but her attention was focused elsewhere now, wondering how the hell she lucked out not only with a friend with benefits as attentive as Peter but someone who was actually _damn good_.

She leans her body towards him, moving her hips slightly as Peter moves his free arm to have more leverage - his thumb gently kneading in a circular motion as Michelle gasps. 

There was a part of her that wondered if this was some kind of twisted thank you for agreeing to go with him to Thanksgiving, though rationally Michelle knew Peter well enough to know that wouldn’t be the case.

Whatever it was, Michelle wasn’t going to complain - arching her back as Peter presses a finger inside of her, thumb still steadily working as Michelle sighs, moving her own hand to reach for him - glad once again for his freaky spider powers and that he didn’t need nearly as much time as prior partners to be ready for another round. 

Let it be said that Michelle was as much of a giver as she was a taker, one hand enclosed around him as she opens her eyes - sharply inhaling as he moves his hands to press two fingers inside of her.

But if their conversation gave way to contented moans, saying nothing as his forehead pressed against hers - hands moving away before bringing her closer, capturing her lips with a kiss as he presses himself inside her once more, then she wouldn’t be the one to complain. 

Not when she could sense from the movement of his hips and the look in his eyes that this arrangement between them benefited him just as much as it benefited her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes this is now a WIP cause I can’t control myself DON’T LOOK AT ME


	4. Fake Dating + Hurt/Comfort

“You’re doing  _ what _ ?”

Michelle rolls her eyes, catching Betty’s incredulous facial expressions through the video call - cell phone propped up against Peter’s dresser as she uses her reflection in the screen as a mirror.

“I’m going to eat some turkey, not marry him,” Michelle says, jabbing the wand back and forth before trying to apply a coat to her left eyelashes. “Stop making it a big deal.”

“It  _ is _ a big deal, MJ. You only wear makeup when you’re trying to get some and since you and Peter seem to have plenty of sex as it is—“

“Betty,” she whispers, putting the mascara wand up, “he could hear you.”

Betty looks rightfully chided at that, Michelle looking out towards the living room - hearing the shower still going. 

Michelle turns back to Betty only to see a cheesy grin on her face, frowning as she says, “What?”

Betty shrugs, something Michelle doesn’t trust for an instant. “Nothing. Just nice to see you happy.”

Michelle pauses that, going to say something before snapping her mouth shut - hearing the water from the shower turn off and seeing Betty’s smile. 

“Neddy and I are on our way to volunteer but I mean it MJ. I’m glad things are working out for you two.”

“They’re not-- I mean we’re not--”

“Bye, love you!” Betty says in reply, screen going blank as Michelle stares blankly at her reflection from the phone screen. 

Let it be said that Michelle wasn’t opposed to  _ happiness _ \- despite the reputation she’d built in high school for allegedly hating fun, she liked being happy. She liked being in a good mood and enjoying the things around her. 

It wasn’t her fault that things rarely stayed happy for long.

But if Peter walking in, towel loosely wrapped around his waist and hair shaking away some of the excess water from it causes her stomach to do a flip flop - seeing his smile as he lets the towel drop, giving her a little show as he goes to change - it hits her then that Betty was right.

That for the first time in a long time, she was happy. 

* * *

The happy feeling doesn’t last long, especially as Peter’s fingers thrum nervously against the steering wheel as they drive down the quiet highway to upstate New York.

He’d filled her in on some of the details of this weird arrangement - the idea that the two of them would not only meet his aunt at some cabin upstate but that it wasn’t  _ their _ cabin to begin with, letting the absolute bomb drop that Peter being Spider-Man meant that he was also associated with actual superheroes on a daily basis. 

Namely the retired billionaire formerly known as Iron Man, Tony Stark. 

Michelle wasn’t sure what to do with that information though in hindsight, she shouldn’t have been so surprised. She hadn’t ever paid attention to superheroes growing up in so much as she needed to to write papers in high school but she could still remember the tag teaming that Iron Man and Spider-Man did when - she thinks about it - Peter had only been in high school. 

Her own conflicted opinions on capitalism aside, Michelle wasn’t very well going to be a jackass when the man seemed inclined to invite a stranger into his private home - her own innate curiosity overriding any misgivings. 

What she hadn’t expected was how nervous Peter increasingly got the closer they seemed to get to their destination, Michelle finally lowering the volume from his playlist and cutting through the comfortable silence they’d found themselves in as she asks, “You okay?”

“Huh?” Peter says less than gracefully, glancing to her as she raises an eyebrow.

“You know where you’re going right?” She asks, Peter letting out a nervous laugh before tapping his fingers against the steering wheel again, turning towards the road and saying, “Yeah, yeah of course. I’ve been driving up here for ages.”

“So what’s going on? You’re acting… weird,” Michelle says, watching as Peter’s jaw tightens. 

He taps his fingers against the steering wheel again, a lone car passing by them before he sighs and says, “Can I ask a favor?”

Michelle smirks. “I’m not going to give you a handjob while you’re driving, Parker. You’ve talked big shit about this turkey dinner, I wanna live to see it.”

“What? No that’s not--” Peter’s ears redden as he looks back to her, catching the amused expression on Michelle’s face before he laughs.

“I look that stressed huh?”

“Like a live wire,” Michelle replies as Peter laughs again, swallowing something down in his throat.

“Yeah, yeah I’m just… I kind of… didn’t tell you the whole truth about everything for today.”

Michelle waits, Peter nervously grinding his teeth - a tic that Michelle’s seen enough times to know that whatever it is that Peter wants to admit, it’s something deeply uncomfortable or embarrassing.

It ends up being a mixture of both, Peter letting out a deep exhale before saying, “Tony’s really into hospitality and likes to make people feel welcome. It’s like his thing now, since he isn’t Iron Man anymore he makes a habit of just inserting himself into everyone’s lives.”

Michelle must look confused, Peter clarifying, “He’s always inviting me over to his place, asking me how life is and just generally trying to make up for lost time.”

Michelle nods as if she understands but she still doesn’t - wondering if he was referring to something having to do with the Blip, knowing she wouldn’t bring it up. The Blip was so all consuming that it was better for everyone’s sanity that for the most part, people just didn’t dwell on the ramifications of it on a day to day basis, not anymore then they already had to. 

Whatever the case is, Peter presses forward as he says, “Anyway, he’s really pushy now. Like really,  _ really  _ pushy. Even May tells him that he needs to back off and he doesn’t, not really. Something’s wrong with him, he doesn’t ever listen.”

Michelle gets the sense that he’s leading towards something, though what she still can’t quite figure out where as she says, “Okay…”

Peter sighs forcefully out his mouth, seemingly trying to find the courage for something before finally saying, “I know this is going to sound really ridiculous and I’m really,  _ really _ sorry that I lied to you but could you do me a huge favor?”

“Spit it out, Parker.” 

Peter grits his teeth, fingers tightly wound around the steering wheel before saying in a rush, “Can you please pretend to be my girlfriend?”

Michelle stares at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, Peter frantically looking at her with a worried expression that just makes her want to laugh even harder. 

“Are you kidding me?”

“I know, I know, I’m  _ sorry _ ,” Peter says with a whine, shaking his head as glances over to her then back to the road, “It’s stupid and like something straight out of a cheesy holiday movie and you can totally just tell me to fuck off and I’ll deal with Tony, I will. It’s honestly not that big of a deal, I don’t know why I’m--”

“Sure.”

Peter does a double take as Michelle smirks, Peter blinking at her for a few times before he says, “What?”

Michelle shrugs. “We live together. We’re sleeping together. I can get why you wouldn’t want to rock the boat, mess up your trust fund baby status or whatever.”

“He’s not-- it’s not like that,” Peter says dismissively, waving a hand around before gripping the steering wheel again, “And he does  _ not _ give me money.”

Michelle snickers. “Good, cause if he did and you still lived in our shitty apartment complex than I’d really question how ‘benevolent’ Tony Stark actually is.”

Peter laughs at that, Michelle smiling before saying, “But yeah, I don’t care if you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend. Between you and me, I’m not really interested in talking about the details our sex life to a bunch of strangers.”

Peter grimaces at that, only for something to pass over his eyes that Michelle doesn’t recognize as she continues, “And besides, it’s not real right? It’s just for a few hours. You could do worse than be my boyfriend, Parker.”

Peter smiles at that but Michelle can notice that he doesn’t reach his eyes, fingers flexing over the steering wheel one final time as he glances back at her.

“Yeah, I know.”

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle had been to her fair share of Thanksgivings over the years. 

The complicated mess that was her own family, two parents who loved her but hated each other in equal measure, made holidays a minefield to navigate. They were both remarried now, flinging themselves to their new spouses families and traditions that Michelle used to try to keep up with in her younger days but now just avoided them all together. 

It helped that their mutual dislike for the other ended up flinging them across the country - her mother in California and her father in Florida, both saying time and time again how much they’d love for her to come see them but Michelle knowing that if she did, it would inevitably hurt the other. 

As a result, she’d ended up bouncing around Thanksgiving holidays - mostly to Betty’s whose quiet and prim family life wasn’t anything like the larger than life personality that she had. 

Michelle wasn’t sure what to expect when she arrived at Tony Stark’s lakeside cabin but this - a home filled with warmth, cheap and tacky Christmas decorations and a spread of food that looked like it belonged out of some kind of home living magazine hadn’t been it. 

She made the round of introductions of people she’s only ever seen in news stories, Peter grinning like an idiot as she passively shook Tony Stark’s hands only to go rigid with nerves when she met Pepper Potts. 

But aside from the various superhero beings who seemed to flit in and out of the cabin, there was one person in particular that Michelle was the most nervous to meet. 

“MJ! It’s so nice to finally meet you,” May Parker said, arms extended out in a hug. Michelle wasn’t the hugging type, catching Peter’s horrified glance at his aunt’s gesture only for Michelle to allow herself to lean into it - a part of her desperately wanting May Parker to like her even if rationally, the thought didn’t make any kind of sense. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Parker. Peter’s talked a lot about you,” Michelle says with a smile, May loosening her grip as she laughs.

“Call me May. And I could say the same for you,” May says, the flash of something mischievous in her eyes as she continues, “It’s nice to finally meet Peter’s  _ girlfriend _ .” 

Peter goes still, communicating something to his aunt that Michelle can only barely decipher, wondering if May knew the truth of the situation - or at least the lie that Peter had told - when Tony Stark himself appears out of nowhere, clapping a hand across Peter’s shoulders as he says, “Exactly. I mean come on kid. We don’t bite. Usually.”

Peter laughs awkwardly, catching May’s glance and understanding instantly that she knew  _ exactly _ what was going on - Michelle barely holding back a laugh as Peter says, “Yeah, yeah you know. I mean, it’s still just new. You know, don’t wanna scare her off and all.”

“I don’t scare easily,” Michelle says with a smirk, Peter looking back at her incredulously as Tony grins, waving a hand in her general direction.

“You see what I mean? Confident. Exactly the kind of partner you need in your life. You’re a mess, Pete. You need someone who’ll call you out on your bullshit and Ms. Jones right here,” he points a finger in her direction, a smile on his face, “seems exactly the type.”

Michelle just raises an eyebrow, Pepper Potts immediately coming up behind him with a small smile on her face as she says, “Ignore him please. He hit the peppermint schnapps a little too hard.”

“I’m getting  _ festive _ , Pep,” Tony says with a grin, looking love sick and more goofy than Michelle thinks she’s ever seen a grown man look - much less someone she definitely remembers calling a war criminal in a high school debate class. 

“Get festive elsewhere, you’re wasting my time with  _ my _ nephew,” May says with a smile, firm and just enough playful teasing that Tony scoffs. 

The two of them start to playfully bicker, Pepper leading them away as Peter looks back to Michelle with an apologetic expression. 

“I’m sorry about that. He loses his filter when he’s tipsy,” he whispers, leaning closer to her partly for proximity but also for the stare that Tony’s still giving the two of them, goofily grinning and obnoxiously winking at Peter as May and Pepper push him away.

“It’s fine,” Michelle lies, the casualness to what she’d agreed to quickly giving away to a panic in her chest at the realization of what Tony’s demeanor actually meant. 

She’d registered the words when both May and Tony had said that Peter talked about her and understood them in the abstract. But it was the drunken confession of Tony before her that made her  _ fully  _ comprehend the meaning of what was happening as the rest of the day unfolded. 

Peter  _ talked _ about her - consistently enough that his family not only knew of her but knew details about her, May casually asking her about her law school exams and Pepper giving an off-hand comment about internships - something Michelle could vividly remember confiding in Peter about, particularly the lack of opportunities for those without connections a few weeks ago. 

Let it be said that Michelle was gifted with enough social graces now as an adult not to sink into herself, to learn how to play the part as much as she could - turning the day into a practice run for when she’d have to do so as a lawyer.

But if she noticed how Peter stared at her throughout the day, his expression turning from amazement into worry as the night progressed, then Michelle couldn’t be blamed for wondering if this thing that they had between them was a little  _ too _ close for comfort. 

* * *

If anyone were to ask her, Michelle couldn’t honestly say she was avoiding Peter after Thanksgiving. They still lived together, still shared the same bed - though it didn’t miss Michelle’s attention that Peter seemed to slip in back into the apartment when she was already asleep and was somehow gone before she woke up.

Her own life became a whirlwind of its own, the stress of her first ever law school final exams pushing away even the thought of releasing some tension - throwing herself into study groups on campus, quiz games with people she could barely stand and long hours in the quiet law library - not trusting that their apartment would actually give her the kind of peace and stable internet connection that she needed.

Michelle would be lying to herself it wasn’t partially fueled by the awkwardness that had driven a wedge between them on their way home from the Stark cabin, Peter seemingly able to sense that Michelle hadn’t been nearly as casual with the ‘fake girlfriend’ thing as she had been on the trip there. But it wasn’t completely because of that, not when Michelle was genuinely worried for the first time in her life that she wouldn’t pass her exams.

Let it be said that Michelle should’ve expected what was to come - pushing herself harder than she’s ever worked, putting in even longer hours at the coffee shop to save for new furniture and the overnighters she pulled over and over again to try and cram in as much information as possible.

But if she ended up pushing herself to her absolute limits, telling herself that it was just another finals season that she could tackle and conquer, then Michelle couldn’t really be surprised when her body fought back against the stress in its own way.

* * *

Michelle threw up again into the toilet, so violent that her whole body shook - feeling dizzy as she braced her hands against the toilet seat. She grimaced at the mess, haphazardly flushing as she winced - the lone light in the bathroom feeling as if it was blinding as she leaned back.

The cool tile underneath her felt like ice as she leaned against the wall, Michelle closing her eyes to try and stop yet another wave of dizziness.

Michelle took a deep breath, feeling a trickle of sweat or snot come down her cheek - too grossed out and too exhausted to even try and figure out what it was when she hears a commotion in the living room. 

She doesn’t bother checking the time, guessing that it was probably Peter from how late it was - taking in another shaky breath as she tried to calm the nausea bubbling in her gut. 

Michelle  _ never _ got sick - a point of pride that she’d cheekily rubbed in Betty’s face every allergy season, arguing that any kind of bug knew better than to get the best of her. Michelle had a world to conquer and shit to do, no time for anything that would hold her back. 

Yet now, having puked her guts out for what felt like hours - Michelle was beginning to wonder if this some kind of karmic retribution. 

The thought of her possibly being pregnant had been a passing thought when she first started throwing up, rummaging in the back of their shared cabinet for the old pregnancy tests Betty bought back when she had her own scare nearly a year ago. For as effective as her birth control was and how relatively careful they were, Michelle knew that shit happened. Her sleep-deprived mind wondered if maybe she missed a dose or if Peter’s freaky spider powers extended to overriding modern medicine. 

When the test came back negative, Michelle threw up again - less out of relief and more because of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. 

Michelle was  _ sick _ , miserably so - exhaling again as she rested her head against the wall of the bathroom and hating the fact that her body had finally revolted after twenty-two years of nearly perfect health.

She’s not sure how much time has passed before she hears the bathroom door open, drifting off without a care to what Peter was doing until she hears him whisper, “Oh shit. MJ? MJ are you okay?”

Michelle’s head is pounding, feeling like lead as she struggles to open her eyes - immediately seeing Peter in the spider-suit with a terrified expression on his face. 

He brings a hand up to her cheek, eyes roving all over her before saying again, “MJ? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m-- I’m fine,” Michelle rasps, feeling the nausea once more as she bolts up right - Peter immediately helping her sit up.

At this point, Michelle’s stomach is completely spent - churning out bile and spit, heaving up nothing and feeling more miserable by the minute. 

Peter immediately shifts so he’s right behind her, rubbing her back soothingly and holding her hair back as her body convulses. 

When her stomach finally stops feeling like it’s being run through a garbage disposal, she exhales - Peter helping her sit back before saying, “You’re  _ not _ fine, MJ. You’re sick. Why didn’t you call me?”

He sounds almost hurt at that, Michelle not having the emotional or mental bandwidth to give a rebuttal - letting her body weight sag against his chest as Peter immediately envelops her into his arms.

Michelle can feel his gloved hand gently push back some hair, her eyes feeling too heavy to open them again as he whispers, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. You okay to stand?”

She must nod because then Peter lifts her up just as effortlessly as he always did - the kind of gentleness that shouldn’t surprise her but does, considering she knew he could lift a bus without breaking a sweat.

Peter’s just as gentle as he helps her out of her clothes - wrinkling her nose at the smell of vomit and whatever else still on them before he turns the shower on, stripping himself of the suit and bringing her into the shower with him. 

They’d had shower sex a few times and yet this was nothing like it had been then, Peter holding her upright as he used a washcloth to clean the mess off of her - mindful of her hair as the water steamed up the room. 

Michelle’s head is still pounding when they’re finally dressed and dried off - Peter actually carrying her into the bedroom, something that if Michelle was more coherent she would’ve fought against. 

As it was, she wasn’t - something that Peter must recognize was uncharacteristic of her as he gently lays her on the bed. Michelle shivers from the lack of body heat and despite being freshly showered and clean, feels even more terrible than she did in their tiny bathroom.

“Shit. What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?” Michelle can hear him mutter, an errant memory of Peter sharing that he never got sick anymore from the first night he’d spilled some of his secrets to her - Michelle huffing as she whispers, “‘M fine.”

Michelle’s eyes are still closed but she can hear him pacing - Peter immediately stopping and crawling into bed beside her, his strong arm wrapped around her. 

“MJ, you’re burning up. You’re not  _ fine _ \--” Peter’s voice cracks at that, Michelle leaning away from him - feeling miserably cold yet already starting to sweat from what must be the fever. 

“I’m… fine…” she whispers again, feeling herself start to drift off - too exhausted to try and argue against him. 

Let it be said that of all the things Michelle could call herself, stubborn was chief among them. 

But if she heard Peter’s frantic whispers, his palm gently pressing against her forehead as he swore once again - there was a part of her that still understood that for as much as was fighting against it, the truth was clear.

She wasn’t fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I refuse to let another WIP sit for months. This baby is getting finished within the WEEK!!!!! 
> 
> :)


	5. Angst with a Happy Ending

Michelle groans, her whole body aching as she tries to turn her head - only to feel immediate relief when something cool and wet is placed over her forehead.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, MJ. I’m right here,” she hears a voice whisper, familiar and warm though her thoughts feel like they’re trudging through mud. Her whole body feels cold, the world around her feeling like it’s shaking for a second before Michelle recognizes that it’s not the world, it’s her.

She can feel the bedsheets underneath her, the sweat or water from what she can only guess is a rag on her forehead dripping down her cheek and neck - Michelle feeling more and more uncomfortable the longer she’s awake. 

“ _Fuck_. Come on, pick up. Pick up. Pick— May! May, I don’t know what to do. MJ’s really sick.”

Michelle can hear the words but can’t make sense of them, feeling herself start to drift back into darkness as someone whispers in the background.

“I don’t— I don’t know what happened. I came home from patrol and she was—“ the voice cuts off, Michelle turning her head away from the sound - chest heaving she tries to take a deep breath.

“What do I do?” 

It’s the last thing Michelle hears for a while, shifting away from the sound and letting herself fade into unconsciousness. 

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle never got sick, no allergies or flus or anything that would dare to try and take her down.

So when her body completely revolted against her the day she finished her last final, vomiting up everything she’d eaten throughout the week and quickly ratcheting up a fever that made her whole body feel like it was on fire yet still causing her to have chills, it was completely unexpected. 

She had brief flashes of consciousness after Peter put her to bed - too out of it and her head pounding too much to want to try to stay awake for very long.

When Michelle finally wakes up, the sunlight from the tiny window in Peter’s bedroom is warm and glowing, as if it was almost sunset. She blinks a few times, swallowing down the scratchy feeling in her throat before tentatively turning her head to look around the room - remembering the last time she did so and how painful that had been. 

The headache is gone, Michelle still feeling a little sweaty and gross but considering that she’s the most coherent she’s been in what feels like ages - can guess it’s broken.

She turns over to Peter’s side of the bed to find him there, eyes closed, mouth open and hair a mess as he faces her. One hand is curled up under a pillow and another extended towards her, holding a washrag that’s now soaked part of the bed - Michelle’s spotty memory putting two and two together as she looked him over. 

Michelle knew Peter wasn’t a superhero as his day job so the fact that he was here with her, passed out and dressed still in those same damn sweatpants makes her think that he’d likely taken the day off - an uncomfortable feeling in her chest at the thought.

Michelle wasn’t opposed to people caring about her, Betty being living proof with it. But this - staying up with her all night while she was sick, pretending to be his girlfriend, a friends with benefits situation that in retrospect was the stupidest fucking thing she’s ever suggested - this wasn’t just caring for someone. 

This was something altogether too personal and too close for comfort, slowly lifting herself off the bed and watching Peter’s chest slowly rise and fall as she makes her way out of the room and heads towards the bathroom.

It’s not till she’s sitting on the toilet, body aching and feeling a little dizzy that she starts to remember the previous night - Peter’s panic at finding her there and how he’d sounded when she repeatedly told him that she was fine.

Michelle’s washing her hands and exiting the bathroom when she sees him, Peter looking frantic as he barrels out into the living room.

“Hey,” she says, Peter immediately rushing up to her.

“MJ, what are you doing? Are you okay? Is--”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Michelle says, immediately catching the frown on Peter’s face as she shakes her head, “I mean, I’m not-- I’m okay. I don’t-- I think the fever broke.”

Peter doesn’t seem convinced, Michelle barely holding back the eyeroll as he presses a hand to her forehead - eyes roaming over her face before bringing his hand down.

“You don’t _seem_ nearly as warm but maybe you should--”

“Peter, I’m fine,” Michelle says, annoyed even if a part her recognizes that she shouldn’t be as she continues, “Really, I’m-- I never get sick so--”

“But you _were_ sick,” Peter says fiercely, Michelle taken aback a little by how fiercely his expression changes. “I found you in the bathroom at two in the morning looking like you were --”

Peter cuts himself off, Michelle seeing the flash of something painful in his eyes at that before he takes a deep breath - seemingly calming himself before asking, “Why didn’t you call me?” 

Michelle doesn’t have an answer for him - searching his face as her still fatigued mind tries to come up with an explanation.

It’s not as if she didn’t know Peter cared for her - the friends part proving that in spades for how many times Peter had not only listened to her in the weeks after the first time they had sex, but had made her feel a little buoyant when she got home. It was an inexplicable feeling of having not just a fuck buddy but someone to come _home_ too.

Betty’s words about how nice it was to see Michelle happy come back to her - a recognition that the happiness may not have come from Peter specifically but rather who Michelle is now having invited Peter to actually be a part of her life in a way she rarely did. 

If Michelle is honest, it scares her a little - having to recognize that she’s allowed someone to move beyond just a roommate or a casual fuck and into something entirely more intimate than she ever anticipated. 

It was like something out of a rom-com, Peter coming home and taking care of her when she was sick - the clear care in his eyes bowling over her as Peter finally sighs, wiping a hand over his face. 

“I’m sorry, MJ. I just-- I thought that we were…” Peter trails off, bringing his hand down and looking at her with an unreadable expression on his face - Michelle swaying a little from the dizziness once more.

Peter’s expression immediately shifts, eyes widening as he gently takes her arm and says, “You okay?”

Michelle nods, immediately regretting the action as she winces - Peter’s grip on her a bit more stable as he says, “Come on, you should probably lie down.”

“I’m fi—“

“Please stop saying you’re fine, MJ!” Peter snaps, Michelle looking at him in surprise only to see the flood of emotions pass over his face - fear, worry and concern before it settles into something more firm. “ _Please_. Just— just let me help you okay?”

Let it be said that Michelle considered herself self-sufficient, someone who not only could take herself but was fully capable of doing so.

But if she lets Peter help her back into his bedroom, a churning in her gut at how gentle he is and at the look of terror in his eyes, then that was just another sign that whatever thing that was between them was beyond anything she had ever anticipated.

* * *

Considering she never got sick, it was to be expected that _recovering_ from said sickness didn’t suit her.

It helped that she was done with classes at the very least, nothing in her schedule that would take her out of the apartment beyond her job at the coffee shop - hours she really couldn’t afford to miss but also wasn’t stupid enough to try and go anyway.

It wasn’t even the health hazard of a pounding headache, nausea and low-grade fever - something she hated the idea of ignoring even if the moral of infecting customers conflicted with the reality of having to pay rent. It was the dizziness that stopped her, as if her body was going into a full scale revolt against her not just for the last few weeks or months but rather her entire life of grinding - making every step throughout the apartment a dangerous one, much less thinking she could handle multiple hot beverages at once.

Michelle hated it - hated _this_ \- the feeling of being incapable and being weak. It went against everything she stood for, everything she wanted out of life and yet it was still reality - taking more time than was necessary to even try and make breakfast when Peter went off to work.

It was the one thing she put her foot down for - metaphorically at least since moving too fast still made her feel like a damn Austen character. 

Michelle thought it was lucky timing that she ended up feeling sick on a Thursday, Peter taking off Friday and using the rest of the weekend to be both as sweet and as annoyingly suffocating as possible.

It was unnerving, how close he was - even if rationally Michelle knew that not even a week ago they’d been as physically close as anyone could be. 

But this was different, in a way Michelle wasn’t sure she felt comfortable with, in so much of how _intimate_ it was - the kind of care and gentleness he had being so inherently similar to how he was in bed yet taking on new meaning as he tried, and failed, to cook her things to eat.

It was a reminder of the realization she’d had over Thanksgiving, something that now felt so glaringly obvious that she wasn’t sure how she had missed it.

Peter _liked_ her, more than just a roommate or a friend or because of their sex life. Michelle could see it in the way he watched her as she took a sip of her pho - Peter giving up on trying his hand in the kitchen and ordering in instead. 

She could see it in how quickly he’d called in for work, only for her to force him back by Tuesday - convincing him that she was okay and wouldn’t pass out without being monitored 24/7.

She could see it in the way he’d look when he came home, as if he’d been holding his breath all day and could finally relax when he saw her - curled up on the couch and watching something mindless on Netflix.

But the thing that convinced her of it more than anything else was the way Peter gently pressed a kiss to her forehead when he came back from an evening patrol, an action that woke her up but she refused to acknowledge - hearing him walk his way towards the bathroom and run the shower, only to slide into bed and sigh. 

It was _domestic_ in a way Michelle wasn’t ready for but felt as if she couldn’t quantify - knowing rationally she should be thankful that he took time out to take care of her when she was sick especially since she was fully aware she wasn’t the best patient.

Let it be said that Michelle knew that it wasn’t just his bedside manner that nagged at her nor her sense of pride at the idea of possibly being considered weak - especially since Peter never said a word nor gave that impression.

But if she shoved away the truth of why she was so uncomfortable with what was building between them, something she wasn’t sure if she wanted to begin with - then that was a problem Michelle saved for another time.

* * *

The next two weeks are somehow even more awkward than what the month before they’d decided to become friends with benefits had been.

Michelle threw herself back into her job as a barista, mainly as a way to get out of the apartment but also to make up for lost time - more committed than ever before in making sure she’d have enough for the credit card payment for her new furniture. In an act of supreme stupidity and a slight dose of pettiness, Michelle used an emergency credit card for some of her purchases - mainly the bed - knowing that she’d likely regret the rash decision yet also knowing that if she spent another night awkwardly separated from Peter on the opposite side of his own bed for one more night that she would scream.

Even after she got better, the ‘benefits’ part of their friendship was gone - as if Peter could sense the shift in how much she worked and talked about getting furniture, little pieces of their friendship also feeling as if it was crumbling with each passing day.

By the time Betty _and_ Ned came back into town - both to see their families for the upcoming holidays - it was as if they were back to square one. Sensing that there was something more going on, likely from whatever Peter told Ned, Betty offered for her and Ned to help move her brand new furniture into the apartment rather than a normal hang out. 

Michelle knew that Peter would be fully capable of doing it by himself - even if she would’ve insisted on helping in any way that she could - but from all that she could gather, Betty wasn’t exactly aware of his side gig as a spandex-clad vigilante. 

Betty insisted on making a day of it - complete with pizza for lunch and assembly for the various furniture parts - but all Michelle could see was the way Betty and Ned’s eyes would land on each other anytime she and Peter would pass by, their less than subtle communication leading to an entirely predictable moment when Ned insisted on taking Peter out to go get Indian food rather than just ordering it like a normal person. 

Michelle successfully avoids Betty’s clear and blatant opportunity to try and corner her about what was going on between them for all of five seconds after they’ve left before she stops what she’s doing and looks at her head on.

“So are we going to talk about it?” 

Michelle intentionally plays dumb as she squints at the instructions in front of her. The dresser was fairly simple but Michelle studied the instructions as if they were her ConLaw notes - feeling Betty’s steady gaze on her as she says, “Talk about what?”

“MJ, don’t play dumb with me,” Betty says, Michelle inwardly cringing but forcing herself to look at Betty - seeing the way her eyebrow raises as she pointedly stares at her. 

“Fine. No, we’re not gonna talk about it because there’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullsh--” 

“B, I’m serious,” Michelle interjects, Betty’s eyebrows furrowing as Michelle sighs, “We had the friends with benefits things and you were right, it was weird and it kind of messed things up but talking about it isn’t going to make it not awkward.”

“For someone’s who is so smart, you really act like a dumbass sometimes you know that?”

“ _Betty_ ,” Michelle says, surprised as Betty just smirks at her. 

“You’re a _lawyer_ , MJ.”

“Not a lawyer. Baby lawyer, more like a fetus really since I’m not even finished with my first year.”

“Whatever, you’re close enough,” Betty waves a hand around, “Enough that you of all people should understand that _not_ talking about the problem doesn’t magically make it go away.”

“It makes it go away for me,” Michelle mutters, feeling childish as she brings the instructions down and attempts to put two pieces together. 

The instructions say they’re supposed to fit but for whatever reason they’re not, just as Betty says, “MJ, I’m not gonna hound you about this. I just know what I know.”

Michelle sighs in frustration, forcefully trying to shove the pieces together as Betty continues, “And I know that I hadn’t seen you as happy as you were a few weeks ago.”

“Really shitty that you think a man made me happy, B,” Michelle deadpans, only to hear Betty sigh and say, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?” Michelle asks, getting more aggravated not just because of the conversation but the fact that the pieces of the dresser weren’t fitting together like they were supposed to. “Say the truth?”

“Act like a hardass when you’re not, especially with me,” Betty says quietly, Michelle immediately disarmed by the vulnerability in her voice. 

Michelle stares at her for a beat, searching her face before her shoulders sag - bringing the pieces down as she says, “I don’t know how to do this, B. We _live_ together and we just went… too much, too fast.”

“You think that or you know that?” Betty asks, Michelle barely holding back the eye roll as she finally shoves the pieces into place. 

The irony of this wasn’t lost on her, hating that the metaphor of her and Peter’s relationship could be boiled down to furniture of all things. If Betty notices she doesn’t bring attention to it, saying instead, “Someday MJ, you’re gonna have to stop trying to push people away.”

Let it be said that Michelle wasn’t an irrational person. She was logical, a planner - organized to a fault.

But if she shelved away Betty’s well-meaning advice for later, choosing to ignore her closest friend as she busied herself with another part of the assembly as Betty sighed and worked in silence alongside her, then that was just a problem that future Michelle could solve. 

* * *

The new few days pass by without incident - Michelle going to work during the day and then spending any time she wasn’t at work applying for summer internships. Pepper Potts had made good on her promise, one of her assistants reaching out to her and inviting her to apply as part of their intern pool for the legal team. 

While the idea of working for a multinational corporation that was once affiliated with weapons development was the exact _opposite_ of what Michelle was interested in, she wasn’t stupid enough to dismiss it outright - not when she knew that sometimes the necessary evil of working for a corporation she didn’t agree within law school could lead to her to the exact kind of position she’d want _after_ law school.

Michelle thought of mentioning it to Peter, as a thank you since she’s sure that the only way her information got passed to Pepper in the first place was because of him. Yet she was conflicted on whether the path of least resistance would be considering they’d barely spoken more than a few words to each other since she’d gotten sick.

She could see that he wanted to, feeling as if he was staring at her only for her to turn her head and for Peter to walk towards the other room. For anyone else, Michelle would think he was just being inherently creepy. 

But if it was as if Peter understood that Michelle needed to be the one to initiate the conversation, as if he somehow _knew_ her well enough to guess that if he attempted to try and talk about whatever it was between them that that would only push her away even further.

Michelle was self-aware enough to recognize how wildly unhealthy that was, how controlling and vaguely manipulative - to expect another person to orient themselves around her wishes, their own expectations be damned. 

But Michelle’s own pride couldn’t stop her from overcoming that, telling herself it could just be as simple as Betty had said it was - to _talk_ to him - only to chicken out each time.

With each day that passed, Michelle kept pushing it off - telling herself that it could wait. That Peter would end up going to spend some time with May for the holidays and that she could figure out some excuse for where she was going, maybe even spend some time with Betty while she was in town - all as a ruse to try and create some physical space between them.

Yet even sleeping in her own room now, brand new furniture and Peter in his own bed - Michelle couldn’t help but feel as if it didn’t matter how far away they physically were.

Peter had taken root in a different way. 

* * *

Let it be said that Michelle was used to Peter’s weird schedule right now, months and months of living with him telling her that the odd hours that he kept were just as much a symptom of the weirdness of the city.

But if she still woke up with a start when she heard a crash in the living room, her heart racing as she glanced at the time and saw that it was the middle of the night, that she wondered if a fear she hadn’t even realized she had was becoming true.

Michelle grabs her phone as an after-thought, a distant part of her mind saying that she should be more careful just in case it was a break in. But there was something else stirring in her gut, telling her that wasn’t the case at all - only for it to be confirmed when she opens the door to her room.

The memory of the night she found out Peter’s secret comes back to her - stumbling into their living room from the window with his suit cut up before passing out on the floor. She could still remember then how her hands shook, the realization that if he knew that she was there that Peter could’ve passed out on some rooftop alone.

Peter knew she was home, she remembered waving him off without a word as he slipped out - yet he still chose to come home, Michelle’s stomach sinking as she rushes forward. 

Peter’s suit is torn to shreds, his mask barely in place over his eyes - chin exposed to show a bloody gash that Michelle thinks should’ve been healed by now. There’s slashes all up and down his sides, deep and ugly looking cuts that make Michelle’s head swim for how much blood there is - stained on the suit and quickly pooling on their living room floor. 

Peter barely makes it through the window, taking half a step before Michelle extends her arms - Peter stumbling into them as she breaks his fall. 

He’s heavy but the weight of him on top of her is so different, so much like dead weight that it causes her throat to constrict - only for her to gasp when she feels the hot and sticky liquid all up and down his back.

“Peter, what the hell? What’s-- what happened?”

“Call T’ny,” Peter murmurs as Michelle attempts to awkwardly sit themselves down on the floor.

“Tony Stark? I don’t have his number?” Michelle says, feeling the panic in her voice start to rise as his head lolls on to her shoulder - bracing his back against her chest as her hands shake, trying to figure out how and where to stop the bleeding.

There’s too much of it, too many cuts and bruises and _blood_ everywhere that Michelle doesn’t even know where to start - attempting to grab her phone only for Peter to groan.

“MJ…”

“Peter, just-- just stay awake okay? What’s Tony’s number?”

Peter doesn’t answer, Michelle inhaling sharply as she rips his mask off - only to wince when she sees the bruises mottled all over his face, wondering what the hell could’ve done this to him but pushing that away for another time. 

“Peter? Peter, don’t fall asleep okay?” Michelle says, Peter’s breathing sounding wet - Michelle swallowing down her panic as she puts one hand on the deepest cut across his chest, another grabbing her phone and scrolling through her contacts.

Let it be said that Michelle prided herself on being a leader - calm under pressure and capable of handling intense situations.

But if she barely held down her own panic as she frantically tried to find some way to contact Tony Stark, Peter’s haggard breathing ratcheting up her own anxiety with every passing second, then that was a truth that she had to realize had only been true right up until the moment that she met Peter.

* * *

Hospitals weren’t Michelle’s favorite place.

Back when she was younger, committed to doing something and more importantly _being_ something in the world - she debated being a doctor. It was stereotypical, as if becoming a doctor or a lawyer were the only way to make a difference in the world.

But Michelle was smart and she knew it, just as she knew that when it came down to it - she could become anything she wanted to do if she put enough effort.

The smell of antiseptic, the long hours and the endless years of education hadn’t appealed to Michelle in the end - telling herself that for as much as she wanted to make a difference in the world, she had no desire in being a part of people’s worst moments in a dimly lit hospital. 

That arrogance comes back to her now, hands still shaking slightly as she waits in the well-lit and sleekly designed wing of the _Avengers_ _Compound_ \- wishing now that she’d actually cared enough to ask Peter more about the details of Spider-Man if only to be better acquainted with what was going on.

Peter’s suit had apparently done the work for her, Tony Stark himself coming to the apartment outfitted in an Iron Man suit - Michelle still remembering his face plate dematerializing as he looked at Peter, face paling at the amount of blood everywhere.

He took Peter from her with some guy Michelle could remember meeting but couldn’t put a name to driving her to the Compound. It was now almost morning, Michelle running on both shock and adrenaline as May was in the room with Peter - wringing her hands together as she tried to mentally calm down.

“You doing okay?”

Michelle snaps her head up only to see Tony’s tired smile. He looks just as shitty as she feels, dark circles and a haunted expression in his eyes that Michelle’s convinced are mirrored in hers. 

“Is this normal? For him, I mean?” Michelle asks, Tony motioning to the chair beside her. She nods, Tony taking that as a sign to sit down as he says, “Not so much, not anymore.”

Michelle doesn't need it to be spelled out, that if Peter could be as hurt as he is currently that whatever it is was… dangerous. She didn’t really care and not as she casually joked to Peter because of the rent. 

It feels like something’s caught in her throat, the realization of just how dangerous Peter’s “job” was - a darker part of her wondering how much worse this night could’ve gone if his suit hadn’t contacted Tony in time.

“But he’ll be okay. Doctors say he’s already on the mend. You did good,” Tony says comfortingly, Michelle letting out a sharp laugh.

“I didn’t do shit.”

When Tony doesn’t say anything, Michelle glances over to him - seeing a thoughtful expression on his face. 

“You tried. You came here with him. That’s something.”

“That’s--” Michelle shakes her head, cutting herself off. 

“He’s gonna be okay,” Tony repeats, Michelle grinding her teeth as she locks eyes with him - Tony staring at her and nodding his head as Michelle takes a deep breath.

“I still don’t know if I like you enough to believe you.”

Tony laughs, a full-throated one that almost makes Michelle smile only for the door to open - May looking out to the two of them as they both sit up.

“He’s awake, if you wanna talk to him,” May says with a smile, looking at Michelle. “He’s been asking for you.”

Michelle isn’t sure what to do with that information, a rush of panic flowing through her only for Tony to say, “He didn’t ask about me? The disrespect in my own compound.”

May smirks at that, Michelle standing up as she wrings her hands together. “Um, is it-- then I can--”

May nods reassuringly before gesturing to the door. “Take your time. He’s a little loopy but that’s to be expected.”

Tony says something else, May hushing him but Michelle’s attention is focused elsewhere - simultaneously feeling rooted in place and pulled forward as she takes a step towards Peter’s room, letting the door slide close behind her. 

She’s immediately taken aback by how many tubes and wires and machines there are in the room. But Peter’s awake, just as May had said - an oxygen mask strapped to his face and a dopey look in his eyes when he sees her.

“MJ?” She hears him say, the mask fogging as she tentatively walks forward. 

“Hey.”

One of Peter’s hands drift up, Michelle thinking for a heart stopping moment that he’s reaching out for her only it to reach his mask - moving it away as he says, “You don’t have to worry about the rent.”

“What?” Michelle asks incredulously, Peter breathing heavily as he wheezes out, “I won’t miss rent. Promise.”

“You’re such a dumbass,” Michelle whispers, immediately walking forward as Peter puts the mask back to his face - catching his smile before he does.

She sits down beside him, categorically taking in the mess of bandages still all over him - letting her eyes trace over the planes of chest, some of the cuts that had been bleeding so heavily now barely there - Michelle guessing by now that with his powers that he wouldn’t even have a scar.

By the time she reaches his face, Peter’s eyes are steadily trained on hers - a look in them that Michelle recognizes all too well.

It’s a look she’s seen him give her dozens of times in the apartment, a look that scares her for all that it means. 

But that fear - the fear that Peter liked her, the fear that she might even like him back - pales in comparison to the very real fear she had only hours before, watching as the blood poured out of him and wondering for a few brief moments if all her terrible jokes about having to get a new roommate would finally come true. 

“It’d really suck if you died so don’t do that okay?” 

She can see the smile in his eyes as she says, “And not just because of the fucking rent okay?”

Peter’s hand drifts up again, moving away the oxygen mask as he says, “I know. The sex too.”

Michelle laughs, surprising herself with the sound as Peter smiles - Michelle blinking back tears as Peter puts the mask back on, only to reach out for her hand. 

Let it be said that Michelle was a guarded person, driven and determined and intent on keeping people at arms length - both as a necessity and as a precaution.

But if she slipped her hand into his, Peter squeezing it gently as Michelle smiles - communicating everything she can’t bring herself just to say just yet but knows that she will, the look in Peter’s eyes telling her that the simple act of taking his hand is symbolic enough for him to understand what she means… 

Then that was nobody’s business but their own. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20k+ later and the fic that took on a life of its own is finally finished!
> 
> If you want more PeterMJ roommate shenanigans™️, consider [my college AU series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1493087). 
> 
> I love it when people yell at me in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out this [BEAUTIFUL art ](https://machiavelien.tumblr.com/post/621916595700334594/spideychelleweek-2020-day-5-roommates-au) Machi made as a companion piece to this fic. A talent and an icon!!!!


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